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Slow-Cooked Peach Pork Chops — When the Smoke Settles and Something Sweet Takes Over

September 2024. Fall in Memphis, and I am 65, walking the neighborhood in my light jacket, watching the leaves turn on the oaks and maples that line Deadrick Avenue. The smoker is happy in fall — the cooler air holds the smoke lower, keeps it closer to the meat, and the results are always a shade better in October than in July, as if the season itself is a seasoning.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 40 years of marriage. Mama's absence still a presence in the kitchen — her recipes on the counter, her cast iron skillet on the stove, her voice in my head saying "more cinnamon" and "don't overwork the dough".

Smoked turkey wings this week — big, meaty, brined and rubbed and smoked at 275 for three hours until the skin crackled and the meat pulled clean. Turkey wings are the working class of BBQ: cheap, underrated, and transformed by smoke into something extraordinary. Uncle Clyde served them on Fridays at his stand, and I serve them on Saturdays in my backyard, and the tradition bridges the gap between then and now.

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I sat in my pew and let the music hold me. The bass notes I used to add are quieter now — my voice is aging, the way everything ages — but the listening is its own participation, and the church holds me the way the church has held this community for a hundred years: faithfully, unconditionally, with room for everyone who shows up. I show up. That is enough.

The turkey wings were Saturday’s glory, but by Sunday evening, after the choir and the quiet ride home and Rosetta’s hand in mine, I wanted something that cooked itself — something I could set going and just let the house fill up with sweetness while I rested. Peach pork chops in the slow cooker are about as close as I get to a day off: the fruit does the work, the time does the tenderizing, and what comes out is the kind of meal Mama would have approved of without needing to say a word.

Slow-Cooked Peach Pork Chops

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 6 hours | Total Time: 6 hours 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 4 bone-in pork chops (about 3/4 inch thick)
  • 1 can (15 oz) sliced peaches in juice, undrained
  • 1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
  • 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon soy sauce
  • 1 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch (optional, for thickening sauce)
  • 2 tablespoons cold water (optional, for thickening sauce)

Instructions

  1. Season the chops. Pat pork chops dry with paper towels. Season both sides with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder.
  2. Build the sauce. In a bowl, stir together the peaches with their juice, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, soy sauce, and ground ginger until the sugar dissolves.
  3. Layer the slow cooker. Place seasoned pork chops in the bottom of a 6-quart slow cooker in a single layer, overlapping slightly if needed. Pour the peach mixture evenly over the top.
  4. Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 5–6 hours, until the pork chops are fork-tender and cooked through to an internal temperature of 145°F.
  5. Thicken the sauce (optional). Transfer chops to a platter. Whisk cornstarch into cold water, stir into the slow cooker juices, cover, and cook on HIGH for 10–15 minutes until sauce thickens to a glaze.
  6. Serve. Spoon peach sauce generously over the pork chops. Serve alongside rice, mashed potatoes, or buttered greens.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 420mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 445 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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